


Trap Queen

by BlackDog9314



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2014 Castiel - Freeform, 2014!Cas, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Castiel is a smart stoner, Dean's kind of a drug dealer, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog9314/pseuds/BlackDog9314
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is relaxing on the balcony of his and Dean's house when Dean comes home from work with good news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trap Queen

**Author's Note:**

> This little ficlet is based off of the song 'Trap Queen', [link here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZbTQ6bAbZA).  
> I admit, I heard the bit about pies and thought, 'Okay, gonna write a fic about drugdealer!Destiel wherein love also happens'.  
> That's literally it.

Cas laughed as he exhaled a thick plume of medical-grade weed smoke over his and Dean's balcony, watching dreamily as it gently dissipated in the soft summer breeze over the sun-spattered blue of the swimming pool below.

“Starting the party without me?” Cas heard from behind him, the voice smooth and mellow like honey-Jack. He turned around to see Dean himself, his green eyes glinting in the sunlight as he walked out to stand on the balcony beside his fiancee.

Cas blushed, “What can I say? I spent most of the day re-reading my library and I needed a break.”

“What all'd you read?” Dean asked, coming up behind Cas to hold him for a moment with one muscled arm, grinning as Cas handed him the still-lit pipe so he could take a hit off of it himself.

“I'll sum it up by saying Nietzsche thought Christianity was dumb, art was the way to understand everything, and having syphilis was the pathway to creative genius. I'm thinking neurosyphilis may have been a thing near the end there. Oh, and Kant's writings eventually led to American Transcendentalism, in which they only semi-coherently re-appropriated his work to mean something entirely different because, logic.”

“I don't get your philosophy stuff, babe, but I'd be lyin' if I said it didn't turn me on to hear you talk like that. Tell me more.” Dean's breath was warm against the back of Cas's bared neck.

Cas turned and smirked at Dean for a moment before facing back over the balcony, smiling as he heard Dean take another healthy hit and saw the sweet, heavy smoke flow over his naked shoulder.

“Well, this morning I was re-reading Emerson and was reminded just how old the belief of American essentialism is, not to mention pretty explicit racism. Seriously, he casually described the landscape of America with a few Native Americans adorning it like they were part of the foliage, and apparently saw no problem with the fact that they'd been chased off their land and killed in the thousands, yet had a real ethical problem with slavery. So, I guess there's that. But, yeah. Inconsistent at best. Oh, and he got very defensive over god-knows-who describing philosophy as a feminine pursuit and spent, like, 3 pages insisting that philosophy is really just bearded manly men doing bearded manly things. Yeah, remembered why I didn't like him in college, still don't now.”

Dean burst out laughing behind him, and Cas felt his arm tightly encircle him again.

“How was work?” Castiel asked as Dean took another one-handed hit.

“I'll just say this: At this rate you'll be able to get your Master's in Linguistics after all.”

Cas gasped and whipped around in Dean's arms to face him, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“Do you mean that, baby?”

Dean leaned forward and kissed him, hard, tasting like Altoids and Chronik. He slipped his tongue between Cas's lips for a second before pulling away, leaving Cas breathing heavily.

“Yeah. Been moving lots of product the past few days.”

“Yeah?” Cas asked, retrieving the piece from Dean and taking the remaining hit, beckoning for The lighter-haired man to kiss him again before shotgunning him the last lungful of smoke.

“Fuck yeah. We're gonna have everything we ever wanted,” Dean breathed into Castiel, slipping his hand up Cas's back and cupping his head. They remained like that for a while, enjoying the feeling of standing there on the balcony that way, pressed together.

Then, “I think we should celebrate. Get the vape, boo,” Dean said to Cas, turning him around and steering him towards the door with a smack to the ass. Cas hissed and scampered inside, setting the pipe on their dresser and exiting their bedroom to run down the stairs and get his and Dean's compact vaporizer from where they'd left it in the kitchen after their last escapade with it. By the time he'd taken the stairs and gotten back to their room Dean was inside again, having produced seemingly from nowhere a sizeable bag of pot and a grinder in preparation.

After they'd ground their bud into fine green powder and loaded the vape's bowl they began to pass it back and forth, enjoying the way the faint haze of vapor lazily circled the ceiling fan.

Twenty minutes later both men were, to use the technical wording, high as motherfuckers, and laughing their asses off at some joke few other people would have found as funny. Early-on Cas had climbed onto Dean's lap and made himself at home, straddling his sturdy thighs and laughing into the fragrant hollow of his throat. When he focused and leaned in to say something to Dean he was struck by the way he was looking at him. Dean's eyes were red-rimmed from the pot, as Cas knew his were, but his expression was almost awe-struck as he cupped Cas's face and pressed their foreheads together.

“How'd I get so lucky?”

“Well, you liked the way I danced at the club and decided I'd do it better in your house—”

“You know what I mean,” Dean snorted, lightly shoving Cas's shoulder, “You're smart, you speak French, you're down to trip together, you don't care that I sell. You make fuckin' pie,” the last words were said as a growl in Cas's ear, and he shuddered against Dean's chest.

Dean felt his reaction and kissed him, harder than he had earlier, reaching down between his spread legs where he was straddling him and rubbing a feather-light touch over his groin. Cas groaned at the touch and tried to spread his legs wider.

Dean laughed, “I also love how sensitive you get after we smoke.”

He touched Cas again, with more pressure this time, feeling the strain of his cock under his faded blue jeans.

“Wanna have some fun, baby?” Dean asked against Castiel's mouth. Cas nodded quickly, trying to push Dean down onto the bed so he could better straddle him.

“Nah-ah,” Dean mumbled, twisting them both so Cas was underneath him. Cas moaned at the warm weight of Dean on top of him and scrabbled at his arms and shoulders, trying to get Dean to kiss him again. But Dean was teasing him, only lowering his lips enough to barely catch at Cas's before snapping his head back up.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, his bare chest pressed up against the ironed fabric of Dean's button-down, his nipples hardening at the friction.

“Hmm?” Dean asked as he lowered his head and closed his lips over one of Cas's nipples without warning, laughing around the hardened flesh as Cas arched up into the touch.

“I wanna suck your cock,” Cas said breathlessly as Dean lightly bit his nipple, reaching his hand down to touch his crotch again.

Dean groaned at the words and rolled them over so that Cas was again on top, gesturing for him to unbutton his pants and get to it.

Cas quickly and eagerly complied, undoing Dean's belt and zipper and pulling his cock out through the opening in his boxers, where a spot of pre-come had already leaked through the silk. As soon as his cock had been freed Castiel took the fat tip of it into his mouth, moaning at the weight of it on his tongue. He began by lavishing kitten-licks up the sides of the shaft and alternating that with wet swirls around the smooth, prettily-reddened head. But he could only contain himself for so long before giving in and trying to fit as much of it into his mouth as he could, gasping as the sensation of Dean pressing into the back of his throat went straight to his dick.

After a few minutes Dean pulled him off, “Gonna come if you keep doing that, babe.”

Dean hauled Cas back up onto the bed completely and turned him over onto his back, reaching into the nightstand drawer to the left as Cas took his pants and boxers off. When he came back with a bottle of lube and a tie Castiel sighed at the sight, closing his eyes and lying back as Dean held his wrists together and began to loop the red satin tie around them.

Castiel was so turned on that he hurried Dean through his gentle prep, or tried to, at least. Dean refused to let him quicken his languid pace, spending as much time as he felt necessary opening Cas up and whispering obscenities into his ear. By the time Cas was stretched properly and felt ready to Dean's calloused fingers he was practically begging for it, his skin flushed and his pleas mere words rather than properly-constructed sentences.

At the first press of Dean inside him, the pressure of the head of his cock passing Cas's rim, he almost came all over himself, having to beg Dean to grab his dick at the base to stop the onslaught.

“Love it when you're so stoned I could make you come with a touch,” Dean mumbled as he flicked Cas's nipple, grabbing his cock again to stop his orgasm as Cas cried out and trembled hard around him.

Dean lowered his lips to Cas's and kissed him softly as he thrust into him slowly, both of them losing sight of the boundaries of their own bodies.

Cas wrapped his legs around Dean's hips and breathed out shakily with every penetration of his body, feeling as though he was falling apart and being knit back together at the same time underneath Dean.

“Fucking...love...you,” he gasped out against Dean's full lips.

“Baby,” Dean groaned as he mercifully loosened his grip on Cas's drooling cock to let him come, which he did, so hard his eyes welled up with tears and he shuddered for almost five minutes afterwards. Dean emptied himself inside of Cas not long after his intense internal spasms milked it from him, stroking the side of Cas's face as he caught his breath and lay limply on top of him for a while after.

 

That evening Cas and Dean stood at different ends of the spacious kitchen, Cas making a crust from scratch and Dean chopping apples and gathering the other ingredients for a proper pie filling.

At the same time the two of them looked at each other and locked eyes. Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean and pantomimed smoking a blunt, to which Dean enthusiastically nodded and followed Cas's pert ass out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, the pie filling and crust temporarily abandoned in the pursuit of a shared, happy, green dream.

“Mkay, so tell me more about this Emerson mother...”

 


End file.
